


burn your biographies, rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams

by uaevuon



Series: Legends Never Die (the omegaverse geass AU) [15]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Immortality, M/M, Magical Contract, Sci-Fi Elements, discussion of suicide, figure skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22202044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uaevuon/pseuds/uaevuon
Summary: “I love you, all of you. Not for your medals. I’d marry you even if you self-destructed again, or if you couldn’t skate at all. I’ll marry you even if you break my heart and take my code. I never want to be apart from you.” Viktor stroked Yuuri’s hair, smiled even as his eyes crinkled with sadness. “I always believed you would win. That’s why I said what I did. Grand Prix gold was never a condition; it was a step on our timeline. After today, comes tomorrow; just so, after you win, we’ll be married.”
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: Legends Never Die (the omegaverse geass AU) [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1140983
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	burn your biographies, rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams

**Author's Note:**

> **this work is part of a series, and will not make any sense without having read the previous parts.**
> 
> edited for continuity 12/20/2020

When Yuri suggested he make a contract with someone else, Viktor thought he had time. 

He thought he had _years_. Years, to explain eternity to worthy candidates. To find someone who wanted it, who would be willing to take on a curse of immortality. Someone who wouldn’t buckle under the weight of its responsibility and who also wouldn’t take advantage of invincibility to humanity’s detriment. 

Then, Yuuri, his beloved Yuuri, threatened to take that curse for himself. 

He thought he had years. 

Viktor had _two days_. 

In two days, the Grand Prix would be over. Win or lose, Yuuri intended to take Viktor’s code, even if he had to force his hand. 

Yuuri wouldn’t listen to reason. Viktor tried to tell him there was another way, that he could pass the curse to someone else, but Yuuri, _selfish_ Yuuri, said it wasn’t worth the trouble. 

Partly, he was right. It would be troublesome to find the right person. Who could they truly trust with immortality? Who could they trust to want it, and not abuse it? Sure, there were some like Chris, who enjoyed it, or Yuri and Mari, who tolerated it. But as for craving immortality at the moment of its offering? Surely most would fall to ruin, enticed by a future with no limits, no repercussions, no fears; most would fall victim to their own greed and pride. 

That was why Viktor wanted to take it slow, wanted to be careful. But there was no time. He had _two days_. 

Two days, and his options were limited to only the small population of New Sky City and those who had come for the competition. He couldn’t hesitate for a moment. He hadn’t slept a wink, too busy formulating plans in his head, curled up on the windowsill in his robe and slippers while Yuuri slept in their round nest of a hotel bed like he hadn’t torn Viktor’s heart out of his chest mere hours before. 

Sunrise heralded the new day, and Viktor was already awake and on his way to the Beehive arena for the early morning practice. He decided to start with the skaters and their coaches. They were easy enough to approach, under the guise of extending camaraderie. As for broaching the topic of immortality, that was a little harder. He couldn’t exactly walk up to someone and ask, “Hey, how’d you like to live forever?”

But Viktor was desperate. 

He could find a way to touch them, perhaps; to see into their minds, the strength of their character, their desires, and then erase his presence if they were on some level unfit for the job. It could be straightforward, but was it right to just force himself into someone’s head like that? 

Was anything Viktor did truly right? 

He fumbled his way through introductions all morning, short conversations, somehow cutting to the point. “Wouldn’t you just love to do this forever?” he’d ask, staring wistfully out at the ice, at some skater or another busy at practice. And he’d get laughs and _of course not!_ s from those who were too tired, too sore even at the ripe ages of sixteen to twenty-seven to imagine doing this for another decade, let alone hundreds of years, thousands. Or, with something frightening in their eyes, a resounding _yes_ ; those who wanted to claw their way to the top, to stand there for eternity. Viktor passed those by, couldn’t trust them with his curse even if part of him wanted to see them crumble under its weight. 

When he finally came to ask Phichit, he wondered how he hadn’t thought of him earlier. Phichit was trustworthy; more than that, he was a force of nature, a source of joy that could easily survive eternity. He had a thirst for life that could, just maybe, mean he wanted more of it. 

And yet — “Viktor, I know what you’re asking me.” 

Phichit turned away from the pairs’ practice to look Viktor right in the eye. “Chris told me everything. I understand why Yuuri had to keep it from me, I do. I’m not mad at him, even if I would have liked to know before. But, I’m sorry, I don’t want your curse.” 

“You… don’t?”

“No. Though I’m more than a little mad at _you_ for roping my best friend into all this. He has enough to worry about, without whatever ability your contract gave him.” 

“I’m trying to save him, Phichit.” Viktor was ready to beg; he was weak in the knees already. 

“I know you are. And I want to help, I really do. I just…” Phichit bent down, untied his laces, began to tighten them in what looked like a nervous habit. “I know Yuuri. I know how he is. He’s probably already decided he’s going to take your curse, so that you can be normal again. He thinks he’s doing you a favor, and that if you don’t want it, you’re wrong. You can’t convince him otherwise.

“The thing is — that doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind on his own. You just have to trust him.” Phichit looked out at the ice again, where an alpha and beta pair entered into a spin together. As their combination spin unfolded, he continued to speak. “Yuuri’s just… like that. He makes these ridiculous, self-sacrificing decisions, and sometimes he even follows through with them. But if he hasn’t done it yet, then that means he still has time to think about it. And I think he’ll realize he’s making the wrong choice. At least, I hope so.” 

“What if he doesn’t?” Viktor asked, his voice pleading. “What do I do then? He has to _die_ to become immortal like me. He—he plans to jump out of our hotel room.” 

Phichit finally looked at him again. His eyes, dark as night, were so much wiser than someone of only twenty years had any right to be. “If he doesn’t change his mind, then you make sure he doesn’t fall.” Those eyes glossed over with tears, and Phichit’s next words were thin, choked up. “Don’t you _dare_ let my best friend fall.” 

“I won’t. I could never.” Viktor’s chest tightened, the pressure quickly growing painful. It was like the bottom of the ocean all over again. “I love him so much.”

“I know you do.” Phichit stood, wobbled on his skates, and on an impulse, he hugged Viktor. “He loves you too. He wouldn’t do this if he didn’t. Just remember that. If you don’t know what to trust, just trust that he loves you.” 

Viktor had no response to that, so he just hugged Phichit back. 

\---

Yuuri promised Viktor he would practice before the free skate. He never promised to go to the public practice. He never even promised to go on the ice. 

Instead, he headed for an emptier wing of the Beehive, where private dance studios were open for reservation. A few were locked, with dancers going through their routines within, and just as many were empty. Touch panels on each door displayed the day’s schedule, with red blocks noting reserved times and green blocks showing times that were open. Yuuri selected one that had several hours available, and booked it for as long as he could. 

The studio, when Yuuri entered, was set up for ballet. A polished wood floor, mirrors and barre on every side. He slipped off his street shoes by the door, and into slippers. 

“ _Is the studio to your liking, Yuuri?_ ”

Yuuri nearly fell flat on his face, not expecting the robot voice that came through the speaker system. 

“Uh — yeah. Yeah, it’ll do. Thanks. Uh, what should I call you?” Yuuri liked to be polite to the computers; just because they didn’t have emotions, didn’t mean they shouldn’t be treated with respect. 

“ _My name is Alice. And I have fifteen different studio orientations, should you require a change at a later time._ ” 

“Noted. Thanks, Alice.” Yuuri stripped off his tracksuit, into leggings and a leotard underneath. “You don’t happen to have a pole dance studio in there, do you?” he joked. 

“ _Certainly._ ”

Yuuri filed that information away for later. Maybe he could come back here with Viktor and… 

If Viktor even wanted to, that is. They’d argued last night, far more than Yuuri expected, and Viktor was so hurt. 

But didn’t he _see_? Yuuri had to do this. He had to take Viktor’s code. He couldn’t let the love of his life be cursed, not for him. 

Besides, what could Yuuri do for Viktor with a pole dance studio? Recreate the night they met a hundred years ago; twist the knife in further… No. 

Yuuri set up a playlist of music, but all he wanted to do was dance the choreography of his programs. He began with his free skate, taking leaps and turns about the room, light on his feet though his heart was heavy. It didn’t fit the song that played, but that didn’t matter. This program was right from Yuuri’s heart, and he could skate it to anything and still feel the depth of it. 

Yuuri’s watch let out a loud beep, signalling someone was trying to ping him for a location. He rejected the locator, and turned off the network; he didn’t want to be disturbed. Eventually someone would realize he might be practicing, and would come looking in just the right place to see him through the one-way mirrors. For now though, a little solitude would do him good. 

\---

“Locate Yuuri Katsuki.”

Viktor stood too close, peered over Phichit’s shoulder at the holographic display above his watch. The wheel animation of the locator app spun a few times, then faded out into “soothing” blue letters — _Location Request Denied._

“Damn it, Yuuri, you know we just want to make sure you’re okay.” Phichit turned off his watch display and asked Viktor, “Guess we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. Any ideas where to start? I know all his hiding places back in Detroit, but competitions are a wild card.” 

Viktor remembered a conversation he had once with Yuko and Takeshi — _Yuuri practices more than anyone else. He wasn’t very good at making friends, and he didn’t have innate skill, but whenever he wanted to clear his head, he’d be on the ice._ But Yuuri wasn’t here, and Viktor doubted he would have taken the trip groundside for another ice rink. He thought about how Yuuri would disappear to Minako’s ballet studio, then, and asked, “Is there an area for dance in this building?”

“Dance? Yeah, there are some private studios in another wing. You think he’s there?” 

“Maybe. Either that, or he’s found the emptiest hallway possible and is doing laps. Wherever most of the summer sports are located would be my guess.”

“The open-air fields are by the East Annex. We could split up?”

Viktor nodded. “I’ll go to the studios.”

“Okay. I’ll get my trainers and go to the fields then. And Viktor?” Phichit put a hand on his arm. “You probably already know this but, if you find him, give him some space. Wait for him to come to you, then meet him halfway.”

Viktor nodded once, and then they were off. 

It turned out that there were more than just “some” private studios. The dance wing had over thirty studios of various sizes, and most were in use. Anywhere from single dancers to a team of twenty synchronized gymnasts occupied them. Viktor peered into each, looking for Yuuri amongst ballerinas and pole dancers and hip-hop teams and many, many eclectic ballroom pairs. 

Finally, Viktor found the skater he was looking for. Yuuri was alone in a studio maybe four by six meters in size, turning fouettés in peach ballet flats. A sheen of sweat covered his face and his bare arms. 

Yuuri stepped out of his spins into something that was not quite traditional ballet movement, less precise and more expressive by far, then seamlessly into a grand jeté. He buckled down to the floor after the landing, then rolled and lifted himself up to swing his legs around his body in a move right out of a street dance routine. Back on his feet, Yuuri moved to the steps of a salsa, then transitioned through a number of styles Viktor didn’t recognize. 

Despite the vast differences between each of his movements, they didn’t look unpolished or even unfitting with one another. Viktor marvelled at the sheer number of dance styles Yuuri had learned in only twenty-four years, and the fluidity with which he combined them. Where had he found time for all of this, alongside his education and the circuit of figure skating competition? 

Yuuri came to a stop, breathing hard, facing the front windows. They were a mirror on his side, so there was no way he would have known anyone was on the other side, but he stepped forward anyway and touched the glass just in front of Viktor. Viktor pressed his hand to the same place, fitting his palm to the shadow of Yuuri’s. 

Whatever pain their contract caused them, it gave them this much at least. They were bound together by a faint tug of emotion, and Yuuri could sense him now, sense Viktor’s longing and desperation to fix what was broken between them. 

Viktor could feel the same from Yuuri. He didn’t _want_ to fight. He didn’t want to cause Viktor pain, either. As to whether Yuuri had changed his mind, Viktor couldn’t tell that much from the faint link between them. 

So Viktor went to the door. It was unlocked, and let him in easily. 

Without the darkened pane of glass between them, Viktor could see the faint, nearly-faded mark of his teeth on Yuuri’s neck. He wanted to leave another one, one on each side, one on every pinked patch of scent-marked skin on Yuuri’s body. He wanted Yuuri to do the same to him. _Mine. Yours. Ours._

“Vitya.” 

“Yuuri.” 

Yuuri lifted his arms, and Viktor didn’t hesitate to fall into them. He knocked them both to the ground, Yuuri on his butt and Viktor sprawled over him, half on the floor. Yuuri smelled of sweat and earth and flowers, and Viktor hugged him even tighter. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But I… I still feel that this is what I need to do.”

“Yuuri…” Lips pressed to Viktor’s forehead. He could feel a sob welling up in his chest, but he smothered it. “Please, at least reconsider.”

Yuuri was quiet, neither denying his request nor confirming he would try. 

“Yuuri, please.” Viktor sagged in his grip, ready to get on his knees and beg. 

“I’ll think about it,” Yuuri said in a small voice. “But I need you to do the same. Think about your curse, and whether holding onto it is really what’s best for you. We can give each other our final answers after the medal ceremony tomorrow.” 

Viktor nodded into Yuuri’s chest. That was fair, even if it seemed too soon. He already knew he didn’t want to hold onto his curse, had already been planning to pass it off as soon as he could. But not to Yuuri. Never to Yuuri. 

“I love you, Vitya. Whatever we decide, I want you to know I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Viktor sniffed; that sob was working its way up his throat, determined. Voice thin, he said, “That sounds like a marriage proposal.” 

“Good thing I already proposed.”

Finally, that damn sob burst from Viktor’s throat. “I love you too. I want to spend forever with you. You’ve given me so much. You gave me love when I’d forgotten what it felt like. You made me feel like I was living, when before I had only been stubbornly alive.”

Yuuri had no response to that. He only stepped closer, entwining himself entirely with Viktor. 

Soft music began to play, romantic but uninvasive. Yuuri’s shoulders shook a bit, and with humor he murmured, “Thanks, Alice.”

“ _You are welcome, Yuuri,_ ” the computer responded, hardly louder than the music. 

“Alice?” Viktor asked. 

“These French computers have some opinions about mood music, I guess.” Yuuri stepped out of the hug, took Viktor’s hands, entwined their fingers. “Dance with me?” 

Viktor smiled, though his eyes were wet. Of course, he would always dance with Yuuri.

Yuuri helped Viktor out of his coat, and draped it over one of the ballet barres as Viktor removed his shoes. He gave no instructions to the Alice, but it turned up the music slightly and dimmed the lights. 

They fell into step together, turning slowly, neither really leading or following. The music swelled and flowed around them. Anyone looking in might have found it comical; Yuuri in his sweaty tights and leotard, Viktor in his suit and socks, the two entwined in a lovers’ embrace. 

The pain of decisions to come had not lessened, but they were stronger together than apart, more resilient to that which loomed over their heads. 

\---

Yuuri finally got himself onto the ice in the evening, after all the day’s performances were past. There were no practice slots scheduled, and normally the competitors would be out, enjoying the novel city’s glittering night life, or they’d be in bed, trying to get a good night’s sleep before the athletics of the next day. 

Instead, Yuuri showed up to public skating. There weren’t many on the ice, which owed itself to the limited population of the city overall, but those who were there gaped openly at Yuuri and his coach running through a complicated, emotional program as best they could, weaving side by side between teenagers who teetered on rented skates. 

“This program can be better,” Yuuri urged. “It can be more. Even if I could win with it as is — and I don’t know that I can — it certainly isn’t enough to break one of your records.” 

There were two left to break, after Yuri’s scores the day before. Yuuri was probably in no position to beat Viktor’s highest combined score, but if he improved the technical aspect of his free program… 

“What are you going to do? There isn’t space for more technical elements.”

“We can shift the jumps around a bit. The triple flip, I can make it a quad toe. My other toe loop is in combination, so I’ll still get the points.” 

“You want to do four quads?” 

Yuuri shrugged, tracing swooshes in the ice around Viktor. “You did it. And I copied that same program; that’s how you found me in the first place. I have more stamina than you do.” 

“Enough to keep the quad flip at the end?” 

Yuuri looked down at his skates, at the scuffs on the toes of his boots. Viktor would have the time of his life this evening, polishing and buffing until they positively shined. And tomorrow, Yuuri would let the world see the gleam of his ring and his blades as he skated the proof of his love. It would finally be the fulfilling, perfect program Yuuri had dreamed of. There was no way Yuuri could fail, not with a program that just felt _right_. 

“I want to try it. Can you cue the music?” 

Viktor nodded, and backed away towards the boards. He had Yuuri’s watch around his wrist, and prepared the _Yuri on Ice_ track to play through Yuuri’s earbuds. 

Yuuri took up his opening position at center ice; the various public skate guests hastened without prompt towards the edges of the rink, excited to witness a private show for the lucky group of them. They cheered with every perfect jump, with every beautiful spin; they watched in awe his choreographic sequences, the skill which had brought Yuuri to the public eye in the first place. And Yuuri hung on all the way through to the end, nailing his final quad even after a full day of practice. 

When Yuuri finished, out of breath but so, so content, he’d hardly reached a hand out in his closing before Viktor tackled him to the ice, pressing feverish kisses all over his face, blissful _I love you_ s pouring from his lips. 

“Do it. Please, please Yuuri. Do it exactly like this.” There were tears in Viktor’s eyes, blurring his vision and streaming down his cheeks as he pushed himself up, palms tingling against the melting ice. He let Yuuri sit up and tuck his knees under himself, what little protection it afforded from the ice at his back. “That was incredible. You’re incredible.”

Yuuri laughed loudly as Viktor kissed his pink cheeks again, the tip of his nose, his eyebrows. His arms encircled Viktor’s shoulders, and Viktor pulled him closer by the waist. “Vitya. Yes, yes, I will.” 

“Yuuri.” He nudged his nose against Yuuri’s, puckered his lips until Yuuri indulged him with a wet smack of lips. “I told you. I told you, you’re better than I ever was. I knew it all along.” 

“I never wanted to be better than you, Vitya.” Yuuri hummed as Viktor rubbed their noses together again, but shushed him when Viktor tried to protest. “No. I only wanted to see the world as you did. But Vitya… I’m not better than you. I’m better _with_ you. It might only be me on the ice tomorrow, but I’ll be skating for both of us.”

“I’ll be there too,” Viktor said. “When you win, we’ll do the exhibition together.”

“When?” Yuuri repeated, still self-conscious after all this. 

“ _When_.” 

Their lips met again, sweetly, for a moment, and Yuuri pulled back first. He stood and held out his hands to pull Viktor to his feet. Viktor wiped at his wet eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, and blinked a few times to clear his vision. When he looked at Yuuri, it was with a wide smile — one which faltered, just for long enough that Yuuri noticed. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Your eyes…” Viktor reached out, cupped Yuuri’s cheeks. His thumbs brushed under Yuuri’s lower lids. “Can’t you tell?” 

Yuuri shook his head. “Am I… Did the contacts disappear again?” he asked. He remembered the confusion when they’d done so after his short program; he thought they’d fallen out somewhere on the ice, but Viktor had told him what tended to happen: the contract ate away anything that impeded its use, and if it was strong enough it could dissolve the occluding contact. “I don’t see any red.”

Viktor nodded, confirming it, and — “It’s in both eyes, now,” he said, tone mournful. 

“Is that bad?” 

“No, no, it’s…” Viktor hesitated. It wasn’t _good_ , either. “This is the final stage of our contract.” If Yuuri wanted to, at this point, he might even be able to copy Viktor’s code, rather than steal it away. They would both be cursed, but it wouldn’t take a death to transfer it. Was that an option Yuuri would want? Was it something Viktor wanted? 

“Then let’s make the most of it.” Yuuri pushed off backwards, and Viktor followed him, hands slipping to entwine with Yuuri’s. He would tell Yuuri later, after the free skate, before they made their final decisions. 

They moved into the steps of their duet, beginning at the part one minute in where Viktor joined Yuuri. It was not as athletically demanding as the opening; no jumps or spins, and the few lifts were relatively simple. Still, it was tender and passionate, rife with the expressions of their love that had so deeply embedded in each of their lives. 

The next time that Yuuri and Viktor were to perform this, they would already have decided their fates. And for that, Yuuri held Viktor a little closer, lifted him a little higher, didn’t take his eyes off him for a moment. He sensed he wasn’t the only one; his contract ability drew the eyes of every amateur skater around them, filled them with awe and wonder and maybe a small spark of the love that Yuuri felt for Viktor. His lover, his mate, his coach, his fiance. 

_Mine_. 

Viktor shined in any light, but this one most of all, this moment out of time reserved only for himself and Yuuri. Here their love was something concrete, something to be touched and felt, something in which to drown oneself and come up filled with more life than ever before. It was a ball of energy that sat suspended in the air between them, until the space around their bodies vanished and they were one, one being, one heartbeat twice as strong, arms and legs entwined as close as skin and bone would allow. 

No distance was too close, no length of time too long, nothing was enough for Yuuri to be satisfied. He wanted more of Viktor. He wanted forever, but how could he say that one lifetime was not enough?

So Yuuri meant to take his curse — and then what? Yuuri would live out the rest of Viktor’s natural life by his side… then he’d be alone. 

He’d do it. In a heartbeat, he would. Yuuri would spend eternity alone, loving but unloved, if it meant Viktor didn’t have to experience the same loneliness. It was the least he could do, after all that Viktor had given him. A second chance at life and love. A helping hand up to the top of the world. Home, in a heart and an embrace. Viktor did the same for him after knowing him for, what? Days? Hours, maybe. For only a _chance_ at the love they had blossomed in these months. 

Viktor had called him selfish, but it would be selfish of Yuuri to make any other decision. To let Viktor go on this way; to wither before Viktor’s eyes and then leave him alone. Yuuri couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t treat the love of his life this way. 

“Yuuri…” Viktor murmured, breaking their silence. Yuuri didn’t know when they came to a stop, but they had, foreheads and noses touching, wrapped up in one another’s arms. The ice was clear aside from the two of them; Yuuri thought the public skate hour must have ended already. How long had they stood like this? 

Yuuri held his love tight, and a quiet gasp escaped Viktor, a warm puff of air bursting on Yuuri’s cheek. 

“I love you,” Yuuri whispered. “I’ll show you. I’ll show everyone.” 

“I know you do,” Viktor urged. “I know. You don’t have to show me; I already know. And I love you too, so much.” 

Yuuri kissed him, so sweetly. “Please don’t cry,” Yuuri said. Thumbs under Viktor’s eyes, wiping away tears. Viktor let them fall. “I’m going to win tomorrow. I’ll show everyone how strong our love is,” Yuuri promised, and Viktor believed him. 

“Forever,” Viktor pleaded, and his fingers tangled in Yuuri’s. 

\---

They skipped the morning practice again. 

Yuuri and Viktor didn’t show up to the rink until a mere half hour before the men’s free skate was scheduled to begin. They had slept in, and when they woke, had engaged in none of the passionate lovemaking of two days prior; instead, they curled into one another’s embrace and lay there, for over an hour, just taking in the shared presence. They squeezed into the small shower together; Yuuri combed Viktor’s short hair and Viktor gelled Yuuri’s away from his face. Small kisses peppered across Yuuri’s brows, over his cheeks; Viktor cradled his love’s face in his hands, just looking at him, until they absolutely had to leave. 

They managed to avoid most of the pre-competition interviews, only stopping for a few short questions with that last handful of reporters who were still hoping for a word or two so close to the start of the competition. By the time Viktor laced Yuuri into his skates, it was time for the warm-up, and he led Yuuri to the ice with trembling fingers laced together. 

He watched Yuuri take his turns about the ice, display his triple axel when his name was called. Flawless. His costume fit him like a glove, glitter and mesh and the richest blues and purples that highlighted every spark of Yuuri’s beauty. When Yuuri returned to him at the end of the warm-up, Viktor kissed him on the mouth, mindless of the cameras on them. Yuuri blushed, just a hint of pink showing through the light makeup on his face. 

Yuuri was third to go on, and Viktor held his hand all through J.J.’s messy but brave attempt at recovering from the failure of his short program, and through Phichit’s beautiful choreography that lacked only slightly in technical ability, compared to his peers. Before long, he’d be a powerhouse like the rest. 

All too soon, it was Yuuri’s turn, and Phichit’s eyes followed the pair from the kiss and cry, desperation edging in. Viktor wished he could offer some kind of reassurance, but he was just as scared. 

Hours from now, he and Yuuri would have to come to a decision about how to proceed with their contract. Mere hours, and Yuuri might— 

Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s hand, unwilling to let go. 

“Vitya.” Yuuri looked back at him, dark brows drawn together in worry. “Don’t look so sad. I’m skating for you, after all—”

“Skate for yourself,” Viktor blurted, and at Yuuri’s taken aback expression he winced, but didn’t falter. “Skate a program you’ll be proud of. Not for me; for yourself. I really want to kiss a gold medal tonight, and that’s the only way I know of to win.”

Yuuri smiled slowly, and his eyes closed with it. “What a model coach you are. How am I supposed to skate about _love_ for _myself?_ ”

That was just it, wasn’t it? All this time, Yuuri had been putting Viktor above himself, because he thought love was about other people. 

No. 

_No_. 

If there was anything Viktor had learned in these past months, it was that love was about one’s own self just as much as it was about anyone else. And it was a shame for Yuuri to think his own self wasn’t worthy of love, when he was the very source of love to so many others. 

Viktor dropped Yuuri’s hand, only to cup his face in his palms like he had that morning. He pulled Yuuri close, and leaned their foreheads together. He distantly heard Yuuri’s name called a second time, and knew he had precious seconds before Yuuri would start losing points to a late start. 

Seconds weren’t enough to erase years of Yuuri’s self-doubt, his feelings of inadequacy. But Viktor could make Yuuri forget them for four minutes, could challenge Yuuri to be better than that which he saw as his own personal failures, and seconds were more than enough to issue that challenge.

Everything else could come later, because he believed in Yuuri’s love, and he believed Yuuri would find a way to give that love more time. 

“Then how about this: You promised to be better than _me_ , a five-time World Champion, and you still haven’t won a single gold medal while I’ve been by your side.” 

Yuuri’s eyes went wide, round as saucers, and this close Viktor could see that faint pinking where his contacts began to disintegrate. No time to fix that. No _time_.

“You’ve been in warm-up mode, Yuuri. We both have. But that ends now. I want to kiss you with a gold medal on.”

Yuuri’s eyes glistened, tears collecting on his lashes, and for a heart-wrenching moment, Viktor worried he’d gone too far again. But then Yuuri pushed closer and hugged Viktor tight. 

“You’re right,” Yuuri said. “Don’t take your eyes off me. I want you to see this.”

Yuuri moved away just as fast as he’d moved in, and clasped Viktor’s hand for just a moment, before he skated off, taking the ice to cheers of his name. 

Viktor reached after him. His hand closed around empty air, and he could only pray, desperately, that Yuuri would come back to him. 

Viktor felt someone step up next to him, but he didn’t take his eyes off Yuuri. 

“I should be doing interviews,” Phichit said, in lieu of a greeting. “I have to see this, though.”

“You’re very loyal to him,” Viktor observed.

Phichit shrugged. “We’re pack,” he said simply. “As good as family, and we chose to be. He’s always supported me, in his own way; I do the same for him.” 

As Yuuri waved to the audience and headed towards center ice, Phichit said, “He’s going to do something. I don’t know what, but…”

“He’s going to win.” 

Phichit might have said something like, “You don’t need to rub it in,” but Viktor didn’t hear him. 

The music started. 

\---

Yuuri’s hands came up before him to the opening notes of _Yūri on Ice_. 

He could skate this in his sleep. He could have let instinct alone take him through the program that represented his heart and soul. But where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement, the accomplishment? Where was the victory? 

No, much better to be deliberate, to infuse every motion with emotion and meaning. This program may have been Yuuri’s soul, but it didn’t belong only to him. It belonged to everyone who watched him, everyone who had ever supported him, everyone who had ever given him a moment of their time, an ounce of their love, a single flower on the ice. And he wanted to give back to them, all of them, even if it was the last thing he ever did in this life. 

That was how he and Viktor had built this program, and it wouldn’t do for Yuuri to forget at this crucial moment what each step meant, who it was for, and how much he appreciated their presence in his life. Yuuri hoped beyond hope that this time, his gesture would hit the mark. 

The first section, a quiet piano melody, was for his family. For his mother and father, who’d raised him with care and compassion and encouragement; for Mari, who was the first to challenge him to be better every day; for Minako, who was as close as family for as long as he’d known her, and who had taught him how to express himself in dance when words weren’t enough. Even when Yuuri believed he was fighting alone, his family was always there for him. The piano throughout this piece represented Yuuri as much as it did them. And for his family, Yuuri danced in ways he knew they would understand as belonging to him and to them. The smooth elements of ballet for Minako, woven in seamlessly with the glide of the ice. The reaching supplications of idol concerts for Mari. And for his parents, familiar gestures of home and the onsen: the shuffle of feet at the door, the order of the kitchen, the washing of the body. 

Skating became a part of Yuuri’s life at a young age, and with it came new friends. Yuko, Takeshi. As a steady percussive beat came in, Yuuri mimicked with his body the lovers’ dance that the pair played around one another for years, with Yuuri caught in the middle. He danced their love for each other, for him, for the three little girls they’d honored him to carry. It was a playful jab at the nonsense game they’d played with their own hearts, but at the same time, it was an open-palmed thanks for never excluding him, never making him feel like a third wheel. Instead, they welcomed Yuuri at every turn, encouraged him to pursue dreams they’d once shared, and supported his hero worship (though not without a bit of teasing.)

Speaking of hero worship— 

Here was the part where Viktor entered his life, as a ghost from the past with pretty silver hair and a dazzle of rhinestones. Yuuri had been so young at the time, hardly a teenager and mere months after his abnormally early first heat, and Viktor, a vision at sixteen in an old 2-D recording, ensnared him from the first look. _This_ was the legendary Viktor Nikiforov who’d set all those unbroken records? And here he was, in video, setting his first one. Not even yet in senior competition but blowing them all away with his flawless short program. 

From that very first moment, Yuuri wanted to be that beautiful, that skilled, that legendary. 

Did Viktor remember all those programs of old? The subtleties in his body language, the steps and twists, the peculiarities of his jumps that Yuuri had learned by watching him over, and over, and over. Did he recognize them when Yuuri moved, when Yuuri skated just for him? Viktor had never said anything about it, but Yuuri hoped he saw the homage, hoped Viktor could appreciate it even though he was so far removed from his former life. 

Viktor had once said that Yuuri looked so angry when he skated this section, like he hated Viktor’s entry into his life. 

But it wasn’t that at all. Yuuri was _determined_. 

Viktor lit a fire under him. From the beginning of Yuuri’s hero worship, the mere legend of Viktor’s supposed unbeatability pushed Yuuri to better himself. The furrow in Yuuri’s brows, the set of his jaw, the tightly bitten lips; they were symbols not of Yuuri’s anger, but of his drive to be the best, ever since he was twelve years old. 

That drive was what brought him back to the ice day after day, practicing until he outclassed all the tutors and then teaching himself from recordings of Viktor and, occasionally, his contemporaries. It pushed him to get a proper coach with the peanuts of his earnings from novice competitions, then to set his sights on study abroad when he aged out of juniors. 

Yuuri couldn’t display all the love in his life and leave out the likes of Celestino, Phichit, and their rinkmates, as well as the team of hockey players who’d followed Yuuri around like puppies, excited and fiercely loyal to the omega at the center of their pack bond.

There was no way to replicate Phichit’s unique style of skating, nor did Yuuri have the roughness to mimic hockey of all things, so he and Viktor had agreed to use this section to show off a bit, both for Yuuri’s benefit and to excite those to whom it was dedicated. It was just after the halfway mark of his program, so Yuuri loaded on the jumps, including the second quad toe loop that would push his technical score into the realm where Viktor and his world records reigned. 

Yuuri could easily imagine his hockey team going wild from across the world, grabbing one another and shaking, waving _Hinomaru_ or a banner with his name on it, cheering loud enough to wake the dead. He wondered if Phichit was watching from the stands, if he was happy for how far Yuuri had come; or if Celestino was proud of Yuuri, even after they parted ways. Though Celestino hadn’t given Yuuri that final push he needed to become the best, Yuuri wouldn’t be half the skater he was today without him. 

Phichit, no doubt, was taking pictures if he was doing anything at all, or waiting with bated breath to wolf-whistle at Yuuri’s impressive technicals. He’d always been by Yuuri’s side, lifting him up without a second thought, like it was natural. Phichit had helped Yuuri out of his shell in college, convinced him to have fun with what little time he had to himself between classes and gruelling practice. He was the sun to Yuuri’s shadow for long enough that they became pack bonded without either noticing. And on the ice, he never held back in challenging Yuuri to be better and trying endlessly to convince Yuuri that he was worthy of being Phichit’s goal to catch up to. 

That quad toe was for Phichit. Yuuri hoped he understood. 

The music slowed, and so did Yuuri, as most of the instruments dropped out, leaving only him and the slow, plaintive notes of a lonely piano. Yuuri’s eyes drifted shut, lashes fluttering, blocking out the harsh arena lights. Just like the part of his life that this section represented, in which Yuuri had closed himself off to the love that surrounded him, and buried himself in busy work to forget the pain of his failure. 

And yet, the love remained, as did those who loved him. His family, his friends, his rinkmates, and the love he could not name for a man he did not yet know. It was only when Yuuri finally returned to Hasetsu that he realized the love which had been there all along, even in his darkest moments. When love felt just out of Yuuri’s reach, it reached for him; when there was pain in Yuuri’s heart, it soothed. Slow and steady, patient. 

Love didn’t rush him. Love didn’t demand, only offered, and as Yuuri drifted languidly across the ice, he acknowledged the offer with his own gift of a fluid and emotional step sequence. 

_“This is where you begin to understand love,”_ Viktor would say when they first choreographed this program, side by side in Ice Castle. At first Yuuri didn’t understand, because this was when he thought he was fighting alone, but it came to him in small moments of clarity. He began to ask for the help he needed, began to accept the support given to him, in ways he never had before. It had taken him hitting an emotional rock bottom to do so, but Yuuri opened himself up to the love around him, so that he could heal. 

And then, like the snowstorm that heralded him, Viktor showed up and put Yuuri’s love to the test, over and over. 

Love didn’t rush, didn’t demand — but Viktor did. Viktor pushed Yuuri to be the best, because they weren’t in love, not yet. They orbited one another like binary stars, slowly spinning into the attraction of gravity, feeding off each other, until they finally fell into one another. And then Viktor didn’t need to push, because his every step forward was to meet Yuuri where he was. 

Yuuri had been selfish, he realized. He made demands of Viktor, pushed where Viktor wasn’t emotionally ready to handle that which was asked of him. He’d said, _I’m going to take your curse_ , and refused any of Viktor’s protests. 

He had shut Viktor out. Out of their life together, out of their love together, thinking that this would be enough. 

It wasn’t enough to love Viktor while one or both of them was in pain. If Yuuri was going to be selfish, he should be selfish for the _both_ of them. He should find the ending that made them both happy. The ending that tied their love to eternity. 

Yuuri’s quad flip had been many things through his various performances this season. It had been tentative, exploratory; it had been exciting, whimsical; it had been sensual, if a struggle. It had never before been triumphant. 

It would be, today. 

No matter the color of Yuuri’s medal, he knew he’d won something today. A victory over himself, over the demons that haunted him, made him feel unworthy of the love he had for Viktor. Yuuri felt new emotions flowing into him, ones he’d never felt before. Joyous emotions, and he’d felt joy before, but this was something else entirely. Joy which flowed inward, toward his heart and up through his throat, the flicker of tears on his lashes as Yuuri reached out to Viktor, overwhelmed in his final pose. 

For a moment, the weight of emotions ebbed as he blinked up at the rafters. His sight was red-tinged; his irises fogged over in violet. For the first time, Yuuri’s magic didn’t give him fear. It gave him strength, when he understood the source of all those new emotions. As he turned his eyes back to the audience, he understood. The emotions came not only from within, but from all around him — the love around him, the joy, the excitement, pouring into him. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of fans, competitors, coaches, all their hearts connected to Yuuri, emotions flowing both ways. The tears spilled over onto his cheeks, and he let loose the joy in a triumphant yell. 

Viktor held his hand over his chest, and matching tears glittered in his eyes. 

_I don’t want this to end_ , Yuuri thought, as he shouted his joy to the skies. _I don’t want this to end,_ he thought, as he took his bows to a rain of flowers and plush toys, blinking through tears at the audience who fed him their hearts, almost more than he could take. _I don’t want this to end_ , he thought, as his eyes landed on the kiss and cry, where Viktor waited with open arms. 

Yuuri went to him, all the while feeling an extra weight in his bones, dragging him back to the center of the arena. Leaving the ice meant it was over, and Yuuri didn’t want this feeling to be over. 

Viktor hugged Yuuri, patted him on the back. He helped him into his blade guards, and led him to the kiss and cry. Yuuri moved as if in a daze; he couldn’t quite believe he’d just done all that. The perfect skate, what he’d dreamed of all his life. He’d done it. It was over. 

Whatever happened now was out of his hands. 

_Is it, though…?_

Yuuri found himself crushed in a sudden embrace, and Viktor’s face smushed awkwardly into his shoulder. The quiet, muffled “Thank you” registered before Yuuri’s score did. 

_221.58_

“Is that…?”

A slow nod into Yuuri’s neck confirmed it, as the audience’s cheers nearly drowned out the announcement. He’d beaten Viktor’s free skate record. Crushed it, in fact, with over two points leading. And then Yuuri’s combined score flashed, and it was eighty-seven points more than what he’d scraped out in the previous year’s Grand Prix Final. That was — that could easily be a whole short program’s worth of points!

In less than a year, an incredible, emotional whirlwind of a year, Yuuri had taken on records he only ever dreamed of, and won. He’d blasted through all of his previous personal bests, and even on his worst days, delivered performances he could look back on and be proud of. 

Yuuri couldn’t look away from the screen, even as his shocked eyes blurred with tears. Thoughts raced through his mind, unbidden, uncontrollable. 

_I’ve scored higher in my short program before. What’s my super-score now?_

_Is Viktor mad? No, he’s happy, he must be. Is he crying? Oh, god, I love him so much._

_What happened out there on the ice?_

_Where’s Phichit? He… I need to congratulate him… He did so well…_

_Could I do better? If I kept going…_

_I could keep going…_

_I want to keep going!_

_I don’t want this to end!_

Yuuri looked down at the coach currently shaking against his side.

 _I want to make him feel like this forever_ , Yuuri thought. _I want him to always be so overcome with emotion and love that he can’t help himself. I want to inspire that in him._

Yuuri stroked Viktor’s cheek, the exposed skin flushed hot and wet with a saly trail. He released some of his scent, hoping to calm Viktor enough to move them out of the kiss and cry. 

As he shifted to stand them both up, Viktor held Yuuri closer, making them both stumble as they moved toward the darkened hallway nearby, out of sight of cameras and fans and reporters just long enough to compose themselves. 

“You’re going to win,” Viktor said. “I can feel it.”

“There are still three more skaters—”

Viktor took Yuuri’s hands in his, and looked at him with such vivid blue eyes, the brightest Yuuri had ever seen; he was entranced. “You’re going to _win_. Chris doesn’t have the drive; Otabek is a wonderful skater but he just doesn’t have the complexity in his free skate that you do. Even Yurio will have a hard time matching you.”

“You don’t know that,” Yuuri said breathlessly, but he could feel Viktor’s belief in him take root. “Anything can happen.”

“You’re going to win,” Viktor said for the third time, and that was that. “I’m so proud of you, my Yuuri.” 

“Yeah?” Yuuri’s lips quirked up into the smile he hadn’t yet dared to set free. “I… did I do well, Coach?”

“It was perfect. I couldn’t find a single thing to lecture you about.” 

Yuuri knew he was telling the truth, but he couldn’t stop the seed of doubt that always lingered within him. “What if… what if I don’t win? Yuri scored so far ahead of me in the short program; his free might not be as intense as the one I just skated, but you never know what he could come up with.”

“If you don’t win, then we’ll just have to try again at Worlds.”

“No, not that.” Yuuri shook his head, to Viktor’s confusion. “I meant, you said that we’d get married after I win.”

“Yuuri.” Viktor cupped Yuuri’s face in his hands. “You were worried about that? _Yuuri_. 

“I love you, all of you. Not for your medals. I’d marry you even if you self-destructed again, or if you couldn’t skate at all. I’ll marry you even if you break my heart and take my code. I never want to be apart from you.” Viktor stroked Yuuri’s hair, smiled even as his eyes crinkled with sadness. “I always believed you would win. That’s why I said what I did. Grand Prix gold was never a condition; it was a step on our timeline. After today, comes tomorrow; just so, after you win, we’ll be married.” 

Viktor’s thumbs brushed over Yuuri’s cheeks, collecting tears that mirrored his own. This happy moment couldn’t be spoiled by the difficult decisions to come, not just yet. 

**Author's Note:**

> please check out my twitter [@_uaevuon](https://twitter.com/_uaevuon) for info about early releases and other upcoming fics! (also please prod me when i forget to post to ao3 i'm very scatterbrained)


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